


Smile, At Least

by pokey_jr



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Sex, Animal Death, F/M, Fucking on Camera, Non-Consensual, Orgasm Denial, POV Second Person, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 16:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13104267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pokey_jr/pseuds/pokey_jr
Summary: Evil Rick goes rogue.





	Smile, At Least

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warnings. Evil Rick is a total asshole here.

He first appears before you as a prophet, a miraculous vision stepping from a glowing portal, swaggering as though he bears the word of God. 

Of course, he doesn’t. That’s preposterous and in retrospect you’d laugh at the notion of his divinity. But you really wish you had just called the cops, or run.

He is backlit, limned in sickly green until it blinks out behind him with a pop. 

You don’t react right away— you can’t. You stare at him in shock, this strange man who somehow materialized in your bedroom at 10pm. Your dog at the foot of your bed does better, growling, hackles up. 

“Who are you?” You draw your legs up under the covers, starting to reach for your phone on the nightstand.

The man sneers. “Move another inch and I’ll cut that hand off and make you eat it.”

Bear, sensing danger, starts barking, though being a goofy 15 pound ball of fluff, is more of an annoyance than a threat. The man smiles, foul and frightening, a maw of sharp, yellowed teeth. One side of his mouth is slashed with an old, badly healed scar, and his eyes are sunken and dark. He looks like he never sleeps, though he bristles with energy, like an animal kept too long in a cage.

Bear yaps furiously. The man looks from you, to the dog, back to you, as if to say, ‘you gonna do something about that?’

You don’t dare move to quiet the dog, though unease flushes you with a sudden need to leave, as quickly as possible. There is something deeply unpleasant about this man, something truly dangerous.You feel like a cat whose fur is rubbed in the wrong direction and you watch him as he paces around your room. He seems curious, like he wants to pry things open and see how they work, but has no patience to piece them back together. 

“If you want something then just take it and leave,” you will your voice to be steady. “The TV, or—or jewelry or something, I don’t care.”

He ignores you. Opens the top drawer of your dresser and rifles through it, coming away with a pair of lacy panties you forgot you owned. He doesn’t smell them, in fact he acts completely disinterested and you stay carefully still, praying he won’t notice you.  
But he turns, hearing the dog growl again, and sighs. “Oookay, that shit’s starting to bore me.” Too quick for your brain to process, he draws a futuristic looking pistol from within his lab coat and shoots Bear. Absurdly, the thing you notice first, before the horror and rage, is how strange the little body looks under all that fur. Bear slumps, no more noise, no yelp of pain. 

“What the fu…” You breathe out, heart constricting. “Oh my _god_ what did you do?” It couldn’t have been an accident, he had aimed and pulled the trigger like it was a routine thing, but irrationality tempts you into thinking it might have been, that Bear might not be dead, except there’s a smoking cauterized black hole in his head. 

He ambles towards you, tucking the underwear in his pocket. “If you’re gonna scream, my name is Rick.” He shrugs out of the lab coat, tosses it and the gun in a pile onto the bench at the end of your bed.

Nausea and fear hit, making you shaky, but pliant. He fists a hand in your hair and wrenches your face up to look at him. So close you can see his age lines, smell sour liquor on his breath. There’s a scar straight across his forehead, newly healed. Like he was subjected to a lobotomy. Your first thought is ‘escaped mental patient’ and an incredulous laugh at the absurdity of all this bubbles up before you can stop it. 

His eyes narrow. “I-I bet you’re curious about me, right? Wondering who I am and what that portal was? Aren’t you just burning to know?”

You bite your lip, don’t answer, which is not what he wanted. 

He yanks your hair sharply, sending a jolt of pain down your neck. “Bitch, I asked you a fucking question,” he snarls. His nose almost touches yours, and saliva dribbles down his chin. “I speak to you, you reply instantly. That’s how this is gonna work.”

“O-okay.” You whisper, petrified. Tears well in your eyes. 

He smiles at that. “Good. Veeery good. Now, don’t you want to know?”

“Yes.” 

“You see this?” He indicates the lobotomy scar. “Until a month ago I had wires in my head, tangled around my brain like damn Christmas lights, with some little shithead controlling what I said, what I ate, when I shit but I was in there. The whole time I knew, the one thing he couldn’t control were my thoughts and now I’m free.” His voice is low, his eyes shining and cold. He observes your terror calmly, then hauls you up and off the bed, steers you to the floor. 

When you try to turn over he puts a knee in your back, puts real weight into it.

“I— can’t breathe.” 

“Uh huh.” He sounds distracted, fiddling with something. Then he tosses what looks like a robot with a crane arm out about three feet in front of you. At the end of the arm is a little screen with a dot camera. “Gonna—urp— let you up for a second, and when i do you’re gonna strip and get back down on your hands and knees in the exact same spot. Got it?”

“Yes.” He chuckles when you follow his instructions. 

 

“You know you can say no. You wanna find out what happens when you say no? Might be fun.”  
You look over your shoulder at him, sullen and humiliated. There’s no way he can’t see everything, even though you have your legs pressed together. “This is probably a stupid question, but what are you going to do?”

He laughs. “Oh, that’s good. You’re a little slut, aren’t you? You’re-- you think you’re just gonna let this happen and— and ride it out.” He shoves your face to the floor, you hear him spit. A gob of his saliva hits your face and you flinch. “Fuck. Missed.” He spits again and it lands on the carpet. “L-lick it up, slut.”

You twist in visceral disgust, go limp when he presses his hips to yours, grinds his still-clothed cock against your ass.

“I-I-I see what you’re doing, don’t think I’m—“ he belches. “Your plan isn’t gonna work, I haven’t even decided if I’m gonna kill you or not when I’m done. So, uh, maybe make a little effort, huh? Don’t dead fish on me, if I wanted to fuck a corpse I’d have shot you along with your dog.”

You wait one second too long; inaction irritates him. “I told you to lick my spit off the damn floor, you little shit.” He leans over you, grabs your hair and presses your face into the carpet, not relenting until he sees your tongue dart out. Fresh tears roll down your cheeks, not so much at the discomfort but from raw frustration at his absolute power. 

“Theeere you go,” he rasps. “It’s not easy having a-a, uh, a good time. And it’s been so—eeurgh— so long since I’ve fucked anything. And now that I have a pretty little cunt all laid out for me, all I want is your asshole.” His cold finger brushes over the tight pucker of muscle, probes in. “It’s tight, right? Kept it tight just for this m— right now. How many men have you let fuck your ass, huh? Am I gonna slide in nice and easy?” He presses in a single digit, no spit, no lube. You whimper and squirm, trying to writhe out of his grasp. “Oh, no…” he mocks, working in a second finger. The intrusion stings. “I think it’s gonna hurt.”

“St-stop it, please.” Your voice sounds pathetic and small, even to you.

“ _Stop it, please._ ” He imitates your whine. “That’s excellent. You’re— I want you to keep that up for when the Council is watching. You ready for your debut?” 

“No.” What debut? Your heart sinks when you note a little red light blink on the camera.

He twists and pumps his fingers, presses a third in alongside and with the twinge of pain comes desire, a little kernel of it … you mustn’t let him see anything more than the pain; you repeat ‘no’ but it’s a moan.

“ _No?_ That’s it, ‘no’? We’re waaaaay past that.” With his fingers stretching your ass, he addresses the camera, and the little screen next to it. Six faces peer down at you. “Hey you stupid fuckers! Yeah it’s me! Fuck you! I’m fucking back bitchesssss!”

Their voices, talking over each other, are tinny through the speaker, but sound much like the Rick currently behind you. “Evil Rick? Is that you? What are you doing? How did you get out? Where have you been all this time?” 

Evil Rick? You don’t have time to wonder at that, there are too many distractions. The Transdimensional Council of Ricks, as one of them haughtily announces, demand to know what’s going on. Evil Rick ignores them, more concerned with giving them a show, and when he takes his fingers from your ass you moan at the emptiness. He notices, and laughs. He rubs the thick head of his cock along your slit— a traitorous part of you wishes you could see him, wishes you could have watched as he pulled his erection out. He finds you wet there, presses himself to your clit, and you dig your fingers into the carpet.

“You want this, slut?” He misses nothing, reads you and knows you better than you know yourself. “Y-you’re getting wet, from… “ he presses the head of his cock to your pussy, “what, this? Or my fingers in your tight little ass.”

You bite your lip, denying the stir of arousal from his voice. 

“Or is it, uh, being watched?” He positions his cock at the opening of your ass, his hand at your lower back, and shoves himself in. 

You sob at the sudden pain. He’d prepared you, but you aren’t ready; he spits, getting his dick wet enough for him to enjoy it, not enough for you. He wants you to squirm at every inch as he penetrates you, and at the audience of his clones (or whatever they are) who clamor from the small screen.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He leans over to whisper in your ear and the angle lets him go unbearably deep. You whine, pussy empty, clit throbbing. You’d like to touch it, hold onto a sliver of hope that he might do it for you. “You want everyone to see you bent over, getting your ass reamed, you don’t care whose dick it is.”

Your face burns, you feel the ache of humiliation and need swell to your chest. _Yes._ Let them all see, make a spectacle of your desperation and pleasure. “I _hate_ you,” you hiss. 

“Whoaaaa, why the hostility? I’m doing you a favor, you little slut, so smile, at least, and enjoy my benevolence while it lasts.” He rolls his hips, gripping your ass, spreading you open. His fingers dig into the soft flesh, bruising, and he grunts, you hear the mounting urgency in his voice, louder than the protests of the Council.

“Tilt your ass up, take what I fucking _deign_ to give you, properly, without complaint. Th-this is what you get and don’t—“ he strokes in once “—try to touch —“ twice “—your clit—“ a third time. You yelp as he goes too deep, try again to wrench away, and it’s the transgression he wanted to elicit. A contrived reason to torment you further. He smacks you, driving roughly into your ass, describing with gleeful obscenity to the watching crowd how well you take his dick, making sure he angles your hips so they can his thick length pushing into you and coming out slick and shiny. He wants them to see your red, tear streaked face too, and they’re yelling at him, a scramble of activity on the other end of the line, threatening to track him down. 

If they know your address, maybe— you manage to get through your house number and street before he leans over far enough and sinks his teeth into your shoulder. Pain blossoms, more immediate and real than his girth splitting you open, or the audience, or your mounting, insistent arousal. 

He muffles your scream with his hand on your face, putting more and more of his weight into it until you fall silent. As quiet as you can manage, anyway. You hiccup, face wet with tears, and snake one hand beneath you out of desperation. You need to cum, to rub your clit or finger your pussy as he abuses your ass, but he catches your arm in a crushing grip. Twists it behind you, so hard it feels as if your bones grind together. 

“W-what did I tell you? Am I gonna have to tie your hands? Y-you want me to break your damn wrists? Finger off your clit, slut, you’re gonna take my dick the way go—eeugh—god intended, deep in your ass.”

He speeds up, incensed by your mewling pleas, balls slapping heavily at your empty cunt. He fucks you open brutally, growling that your pleasure doesn’t matter, that he likes it when you cry. And you are powerless before him, trembling and sobbing.  
When he gets close, he pulls out, flips you over. You might be able to crawl away, though you don’t. The chorus of voices goes silent at last, stunned by what they’re watching. But they haven’t looked away, or cut the connection. This so called ‘evil’ Rick straddles your chest, takes his cock in hand and pumps it. You are vaguely awed that he even fit inside you. And then he’s cumming, thick ropes of it on your face, your neck, in your hair, and he pries your jaw open, without really aiming, emptying his balls in one last act of degradation. You squeeze your eyes shut, taste a bit of cum, lick it from your lips. When you open them you see he’s panting, his narrow chest rising and falling. He swipes some from your cheek, offers his fingers in front of your mouth— not forcing, but you lap it up without thinking first. You yearn for more, the fleeting promise of bliss still unfulfilled.

He smirks. “What’s that? Not quite broken yet?”

You try to spit it out at him, though it’s barely a dribble down your cheek, part cum, part saliva. “Fuck you.”

He grins. “That’s the spirit.” Hauls you over his shoulder. “Good news. I won’t be killing you. Thought of a better use for you.” He kicks over the little camera, uses a gun to open another green portal. The last thing you see, slung over his shoulder, is Bear’s little prone body on your bed—you cry out, distraught and furious at the reminder, and the fact he so expertly distracted you— blink and everything is gone in green.


End file.
